


All I Want For Christmas

by xtexan86



Category: Starsky & Hutch
Genre: M/M, Post Sweet Revenge, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-09
Updated: 2011-11-09
Packaged: 2017-10-25 21:17:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,936
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/274887
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xtexan86/pseuds/xtexan86
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>All Hutch wants for Christmas is Starsky, but will Santa grant his wish?</p>
            </blockquote>





	All I Want For Christmas

**All I Want for Christmas**

Hutch pulled up alongside the curb near the front entrance of Lucky’s Supermarket. He let a young mother totting a child in a shopping cart cross in front of him, and inched forward a little more before putting the LTD in park. He turned the ignition off and took a quick glance at his wristwatch. Five more minutes to go.

Today would mark Starsky’s second day working as a grocery clerk in the store. He’d applied for the position about a week ago, not really expecting to be hired. But when the manager called back the next day and offered him the job, Starsky gladly accepted. And truthfully, Hutch was happy for him, even though he had a few concerns on whether or not Starsky could physically handle the work. Gunther’s attack had left permanent marks on both his body and spirit. But to keep things peaceful, Hutch decided to keep quiet and let his partner work at rebuilding his life as he saw fit.

Drumming his fingers on the steering wheel, Hutch entertained himself by watching customers come and go. A small group of hippies caught his attention as they got out of their mid-sixties Chevy Impala station wagon and headed into the store. The colorful tie-dyed shirts and braided hair bands brought back memories of college campus life. A full decade had passed since the Age of Aquarius, yet these diehards continued to live as if Timothy Leary and Woodstock were still making front page news.

Finally, the man Hutch was waiting for emerged from the front doors. Wearing a black leather jacket and loose-fitting jeans, Starsky nearly looked like he did before becoming a long-term resident at Memorial Hospital. He could still put on about ten pounds, but compared to a few months ago, he was certainly in much better shape.

Hutch continued his feast on every part of Starsky’s physique. He studied the firm legs and thighs, marveling at how their natural rhythm produced a unique strut that just reeked sex. Following Starsky's figure upwards, Hutch admired the slender, yet perfectly formed, hips. Last, but not least, his eyes lingered on the masculine outline of a long chest.

 _God, he loved that man._

Hutch thought he detected a twinge of pain when Starsky opened the heavy car door, but seeing that lovely smile made all Hutch's apprehensions slip away.

“My, oh my, front door service,” Starsky said suspiciously, hopping into the passenger seat. “That’s two days in a row. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’re spoiling me.”

“You’ll get my bill,” Hutch replied, watching him settle in. “Work go okay?”

“Yeah.” Starsky lifted a pair of sunglasses out of his jacket pocket and slipped them on. “You know, I don’t mind walking back to the house.”

Hutch caught Starsky’s accusatory glare over the top of his Ray Bans, but he’d already prepared a plausible defense. “I was just at the bank across the street. Figured you wouldn’t mind.”

Starsky snorted loudly above the sound of the engine starting but didn’t offer any comment. Hutch steered the Ford slowly out of the parking lot and pulled up to the next intersection. While waiting for the traffic light to change, he glanced over at his passenger. “Saw a nice two door for sale at that car lot on Washington,” Hutch said. “Wanna swing by and have a look?”

“What _kind_ of two door?”

The stress in Starsky’s voice didn’t go unnoticed. “It’s uh…a Torino. Blue paint…but it looks nice.”

A long, but tempered sigh came from his passenger. Hutch firmly gripped the steering wheel, not sure what to expect next. He’d noticed a change in Starsky ever since he came home from the hospital. Gone, and rarely seen anymore, was that trademark euphoric optimism. Instead, Hutch saw a more subdued and uncharacteristically moody man.

“What do I need a car for?” griped Starsky. “Seems like you’re always there whenever I need to go somewhere.”

Hutch bit his lip. With his sarcastic tone and huffiness, Starsky was just aching for a fight. They’d had plenty of verbal spats over the past few weeks; some even pretty intense. It had taken some doing, but Hutch eventually learned to recognize the warning signs, and decided that whatever didn’t kill him would only make him stronger. Well, it was something like that. More simply put, he just didn’t have the energy to argue with a brick wall anymore.

“It was just a suggestion, Starsk. I thought with you working now, you’d want to have some wheels.”

Hutch thought about the old Torino. The last time he’d seen it was more than three months ago, sitting at Merle’s underneath a tarp. As far as he knew, Starsky hadn’t gone by the repair shop or even called Merle to let him know what to do with the car. Hutch even doubted Starsky had made a payment on it since summer began. If the bank hadn’t repossessed the vehicle by now, it wouldn’t be too much longer.

“You do any studying for your exam today?”

Hutch instinctively smirked at Starsky’s change of topic; another one of his recent habits. Sticking with his strategy, Hutch ignored the bad behavior and willingly went along.

“Yeah, for a few hours.”

“Think you’re gonna have any problems passing it?”

Hutch gave that question some thought. He’d been studying for the lieutenant’s exam for nearly a month now, but his decision to pursue a change in rank hadn’t come easily. After Starsky was discharged from the hospital, it was clear he’d never be fit enough to work the streets again. For Starsky, working behind a desk was akin to cleaning toilets for a living. So he'd taken his disability retirement and started looking for another job. Hutch had reluctantly decided to stay with the department. The money wasn’t bad, but without a certain curly-headed partner, work had become just another paycheck.

“No, I don’t think so. I just have to remember to answer the questions like the department expects, not like I’d really want to.”

That brought a chuckle from Starsky. “You talk to Dobey lately?”

Hutch had to think a little more. Dobey’s retirement party had been over two months ago. Hutch had gotten so drunk during the celebration that he barely remembered vowing to keep in touch with the man. Since then, he and Starsky had been by Dobey’s house only once. Sometimes, when work wasn’t too busy, Hutch would call his old boss and catch up on any news, but the sad truth was, nothing had really been the same since the shooting.

“No, not for a couple of weeks,” Hutch answered quietly. “How ‘bout you?”

“Huh?”

Hutch turned his attention away from the road. “I said ‘how about you.’ Have you spoken to him lately?”

Starsky shook his head. “No, can’t say as I have.”

The sad tone in his partner’s voice struck a chord in Hutch’s heart. Sometimes it felt like both of them were still trying to live in the past—a past full of good times and bad, yet one they shared an irreparable link to. But returning there didn’t seem possible; especially after realizing their feelings for each other had progressed beyond being good friends. Hutch couldn’t point to a specific date when that had occurred, but its inception had created a permanent time line in their lives—a moment, like Gunther’s attack, where everything either before or after that time had a different meaning. So far though, their new lives, and new relationship, had resembled nothing more than two kissing cousins sneaking off behind the barn every now and then.

Conversation inside the LTD remained nonexistent while Hutch drove down a wide residential street lined with tall palm trees. After cruising through two more intersections, he turned right and pulled in the driveway of a small, two bedroom stucco house. Built in the late 40’s, their new home was definitely showing its age. Before Starsky got out of the hospital, they’d agreed it would be easier to share a place to live, especially one that didn’t have a full flight of stairs to navigate. This house hadn’t been their first choice, but the rent was reasonable and the neighborhood appeared clean and friendly.

For Hutch, living under the same roof with Starsky was like playing the roles of Oscar and Felix in the Odd Couple. Not that one was a neat freak and the other a slob, but both had their own ways of running a household. It had taken a few weeks to figure out what each was best at, but slowly a workable system had developed that allowed them to coexist without repeated threats of bodily harm.

“I’ll go check the mail box,” Hutch said, turning the engine off. “You wanna grab the newspaper?”

“Not really,” Starsky mumbled, but he got out of the car and headed across the lawn to the rolled bundle lying under the ash tree.

After retrieving the mail, Hutch made sure Starsky stayed ahead of him when they walked in the front door. True to Hutch’s expectation, Starsky froze as soon as he entered the living room.

“What’s this?” he exclaimed, mouth and eyes opened in total surprise. “Did you do this all today?”

Hutch came up beside his friend. Both stood for a long moment, staring at the 6 foot high Christmas tree standing in the corner of the room. It was decorated with strings of glowing blue, red and green lights; all perfectly strung around the tree. Ornaments, big and small, hung from branches covered with tinsel and a lighted star was propped on the very top. The air smelled like fresh pine.

Hutch breathed in the woodsy scent. “Do you like it?”

Starsky’s mouth closed as he swallowed hard. “It’s beautiful, Hutch. I thought you didn’t want to put up a tree.” With a skeptical look, he added, “We expectin’ company?”

“No,” Hutch answered with a big smile. “Just the two of us.”

For a moment, Hutch could’ve sworn he’d seen a seductive glimmer in Starsky’s eyes.

“I don’t see any presents,” Starsky said, moving closer to the tree.

Hutch had to stop from answering “I do” as he kept his eyes glued on Starsky’s round ass. “Well, I gave you my list at least a month ago. What’d you do with it?”

“You mean the one that just had my name on it?”

The smile on Starsky’s face sent sparkles of hope racing straight to Hutch’s dick. “I wrote down the only thing I want, partner,” he said, more like a plea than an answer.

Starsky’s grin slowly melted, and so did Hutch’s enthusiasm. Shaking the dwindling, lascivious thoughts from his mind, he went over to the couch and sat down. Starsky’s reaction made Hutch feel like a teenager who’d been rejected after asking his sweetheart to the prom. Whether Starsky picked up on Hutch’s mood, he couldn’t tell, but Starsky stopped looking at the tree and stiffly slipped his jacket off.

“I think I’ll go lay down for a bit,” he said.

“You still planning to eat dinner later?” Hutch didn’t want to sound like a worried mother, but trying to judge Starsky’s intentions lately was far from an exact science.

“Maybe something light.” Starsky hung his head. “I’ve just been really tired, lately. Guess I’m not used to workin’ eight hours straight.”

Hutch scrambled for something to say that wouldn’t sound too patronizing or overbearing. Thankfully, Starsky saved him the trouble.

“I’m fine, Hutch, honest,” he said, raising his head back up. “You know you’d be the first to find out if I wasn’t.”

“Would a massage help?” Hutch mentally crossed his fingers hoping Starsky would accept the offer.

A long pause followed. Then, finally, “Yeah, alright.”

Starsky didn’t sound particularly convincing, but that didn’t dissuade Hutch. He sprang from the couch, his spirit once again filled with excitement. And who could blame him? He was head over heels in love—Hutch wanted Starsky like no one else he’d ever wanted before. Whether it was from the shock of almost losing him in May or just the eventual realization that they were truly in love, he wasn’t sure. But one thing was clear. Hutch craved everything about Starsky; from the curls on his head to the flat, but soft, soles on his feet. Even when he played hard to get or was in one of his stubborn moods, nothing Starsky did ever swayed Hutch’s opinion.

“You thinkin’ about doing it in here, or in the bedroom?”

Starsky’s question smacked Hutch like a wild punch. “Huh?”

“You suddenly lose your hearing?” Starsky asked, visibly annoyed. “You want me on the couch or on the bed?”

If Hutch’s mind wasn’t spinning so bad, this would’ve been funny. “It’s uh, up to you. Wherever you’d feel more, um…comfortable.”

Starsky shot him a hard look and headed to his bedroom. Hutch let out a frustrated sigh. It was obvious that being stripped naked and having Hutch fuck him senseless was the last thing on Starsky's mind.

 _Shit, was he being too optimistic?_

Starsky must have realized how much Hutch wanted him. They’d shared a few intimate kisses, but each time Hutch tried to move the foreplay along, Starsky had strangely refused.

Maybe, if Hutch wasn’t too pushy, said just the right things, Starsky might loosen up. After all, his roommate hadn’t clearly indicated he wasn’t interested in delving deeper into their relationship. Perhaps it was wishful thinking, but until Starsky gave a definitive answer, Hutch would keep trying to woo him. Corralling his optimism, Hutch followed his only desire like a faithful puppy.

Once inside the bedroom, Starsky kicked off his tennis shoes. He pulled his t-shirt out of the waistband of his jeans and took off his belt. With the rest of his clothing on, Starsky lay face down on the bed. Seeking a bit of comfort himself, Hutch stepped out of his loafers and sat down next to his prone partner. He put his hands on the nape of Starsky’s neck and slowly began to knead the shoulder muscles. Bit by bit, Hutch increased the pressure and slowly spread his hands over the firm flesh. A sense of calm and enjoyment gradually took over as Hutch let his mind empty so he could concentrate on his ministrations.

Connecting like this, one on one, felt wonderful. Each of Hutch’s caresses and strokes conveyed an unspoken willingness to give Starsky everything he possibly could—love, devotion and ownership of his soul. With his face buried in the pillow, Starsky moaned softly in apparent acceptance.

After covering most of the back, Hutch slipped both hands under Starsky's t-shirt and lifted it up, wanting to feel the texture of warm skin underneath. Suddenly, Starsky tensed and quickly turned onto his side.

“What?” Hutch asked, quickly withdrawing his hands. He wasn’t sure what to make of Starsky’s reaction.

“Get out.”

The husky tone sent a chill down Hutch’s spine. “Starsk…what? What’d I do?”

“We’re done, okay? I’m done, you’re done…we’re _done_.”

Hutch stared into Starsky’s eyes, wanting to find some sort of clue to explain the heated response. But only an intense, blue-eyed, glare greeted him. Pushing his hurt aside, Hutch got up from the bed. Before retrieving his shoes from the floor, he looked back at Starsky. Not seeing any hint of reconsideration, Hutch hung his head and walked out of the room.

He went into the living room, not really sure what to do or think. The lights from the Christmas tree were blinking, illuminating the room in a colorful spectrum. The soft hues seemed to call to him, offering a token of serenity. Taking a seat on the couch, Hutch tried to forget his own turmoil and concentrate on the peacefulness of the moment.

Memories surfaced, of past Christmases when he was still a child. Mom would always put up the holiday decorations; making sure no room was spared. The smells of fresh baked cookies and loafs of raisin bread would permeate the house from the kitchen, filling Hutch’s nose with scrumptious scents and making his mouth water. There was always a huge tree in the living room, adorned with so many ornaments and lights that barely any green foliage showed. After the presents were placed under the tree, Hutch would inspect each one, paying close attention to those tagged with his name. Some were easy to guess, others needed a little shaking.

Settling back on the couch, Hutch let the childhood memories slip away. Was it really simpler back then, or were there just fewer things to worry about? He’d never really wanted too much in life. Mostly the natural things, like hoping Vanessa would say ‘yes,’ passing the entrance exam for the police academy, and praying to a God he barely believed in to save the life of someone more precious to him than any other.

Maybe there was some kind of quota system in the universe. People who asked for big, almost impossible, wishes were limited to only one or two per lifetime. If that was the case, then Hutch had already used up his share. So be it. Having his partner alive and well, was something to always be grateful for. Even if that meant Starsky might never love him the way he wanted to be loved—

“Hutch?”

The barely audible call floated in from behind the couch. Hutch sat up and turned to look over his shoulder. The image that greeted his eyes was completely unexpected.

Starsky was standing in the entryway, one leg crossed over the other and his upper body leaning against the door frame. Both hands were stuck inside the front pockets of his jeans, exposing a very lovely, and naked, chest. Hutch hadn’t seen this much bare skin since Starsky was in the hospital. Two lines of scars streaked across the furry surface. No longer pink, they each looked well-healed, but painfully visible surrounded by tiny black curls. Starsky’s usually well-defined musculature was now much smoother—a result, no doubt, of months of diminished usage. Examining lower, Hutch suddenly gasped. Starsky’s jeans were open, the zipper pulled down nearly halfway, exposing what had to be…

“Starsky?”

Hutch jumped to his feet, staring at the vision before him. His brain was so flooded by impulses he couldn’t decide what to do next. At last, a few critical neurons kicked in. Taking one step, then another, he slowly approached the heavenly image.

When Hutch was just a foot away, he stopped and took a deep breath. As much as he wanted to bend down and take the rounded tip of flesh poking out of the opened jeans into his mouth, Starsky’s intense blue eyes demanded Hutch’s attention even more.

“This what you’ve been wanting?” Starsky asked, sounding like he needed acceptance rather than an answer.

“For all my life,” Hutch declared.

Starsky gave him a small, sad smile. “I bet you say that to all the women.”

Starsky’s attempt at humor instantly fell flat. He looked scared and stiff, like a deer caught in a car’s headlights. If Hutch didn’t think of something soon, Bambi would probably shake his tail and bound off. Lifting his hand, Hutch cupped the side of Starsky’s face and caressed the soft cheek with his thumb. The motion seemed to relax him. Starsky’s inhalations became deeper and longer; his body loosening with each breath. Perhaps, this was what he needed; to be seduced, gently but persistently. Hutch moved his hand higher and delicately raked his fingers through soft curls of hair. Just as he leaned in closer, seeking a kiss, Starsky whipped his head to the side and drew back. Stunned, Hutch stood frozen, rejection and hurt tearing through him.

“Hey! What gives?”

Starsky’s eyes radiated with fear. He glanced down and quickly began to zip up his jeans.

“Starsky?” Hutch grabbed an arm, but forced himself to wait until Starsky was done before speaking again. “Talk to me, man. What are you doing?”

“I…I dunno…”

Letting go, Hutch placed both hands on his hip and straightened. “I’d say you knew plenty. At least enough to give me a hard on.”

“You mean, you weren’t…you know, turned off?”

Hutch stared at the surprise on Starsky’s face. _He was actually being serious!_ Grabbing his crotch, Hutch grunted, “You wanna feel for yourself?” Not seeing any reaction, Hutch shook his head. This time, in a gentler tone, he said, “Starsky, whatever gives you the idea that you’re not… _amazingly_ sexy?”

“Isn’t that obvious?”

“No, it’s not!” Hutch let his eyes travel to the puckered lines on Starsky’s chest. _Is this what he’s talking about?_ Seeking those beautiful blue eyes again, Hutch asked, “Do you honestly think that a few little scars makes you any less of person in my mind?”

Starsky dipped his head. “It’s not just the scars, Hutch.”

“Then what?” Hutch shifted uncomfortably on his feet. He didn’t mean to sound so hot and irritated, but he was quickly losing his temper, not to mention the welcomed tightness in his groin.

Releasing a heavy sigh, Starsky leaned against the door frame. “I think the shooting…I think it changed a lot.”

Curious, Hutch moved in closer. “You mean, with you?”

Starsky hesitantly nodded. “Yeah…I thought for a while, it was because of all those damn pills. But nothing seemed to change even after I was done with ‘em.” He paused and took a look around the room. Settling on the Christmas tree, Starsky stared at it for a long moment. “I don’t really know how to explain it, Hutch. I feel like I’m scared all the time, like I’m waiting for the next thing to hit. Maybe that’s why I’ve been trying to push you away, so you don’t get hurt anymore.”

Not wanting to argue the lack of logic in that last statement, Hutch decided to use another approach.

“I’m here for the long haul, partner. That’s what I signed up for; nine years, eleven months, three days and…” Pausing to look at his watch, Hutch added, “thirty three minutes ago. I remember it well. We were in Dobey’s office. He looked at you, then he looked at me and said, ‘Starsky, this is your partner, Hutchinson. Hutchinson, this is your partner, Starsky. By the power invested in me, I now pronounce you…”

Hutch quit talking and gleefully watched the smirk blossom on Starsky’s face.

“He didn’t say that.”

“No, he didn’t, but that didn’t make that date any less important. And what happened back in May, that never changed how important you are to me, either.”

Starsky exhaled loudly. “What am I gonna do with you?” he asked, with a widening smile.

Hutch felt his own grin grow bigger. “Well, you can start with letting me kiss you.”

“Oh, really? Then what?”

“Then follow me into the bedroom and I’ll show you.”

“Show me, huh? You’re making it sound like you’re some kind of expert.”

“I’ve never gotten any complaints.”

Starsky snorted and took a few steps towards Hutch’s room. Glancing over his shoulder, he asked, “You’ve really been in love with me for all that time?”

“No…I had to get use to you first.”

Starsky abruptly halted and spun around. Placing both hands on each side of Hutch's face, he leaned in and passionately captured his partner’s lips in his mouth.

After ending the succulent kiss, Starsky locked eyes with Hutch. “How’s that for getting used to?”

“ _Oh God_ , there _**is**_ a Santa Claus…”

 **The End**


End file.
